


Coquina Sunset

by TheStarsMyDestination



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Making all my favorite star wars characters get drunk at my favorite beach bar, More tags to be added, Summer, summertime au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStarsMyDestination/pseuds/TheStarsMyDestination
Summary: Ben is a photographer who often spends his days walking down the beach and taking photos. He falls in love with the beautiful woman in one of his photos, but when he tries to find her, he comes up with nothing -- except that she looks exactly like a woman who died several decades ago.
Relationships: Finn/Rose Tico, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 9
Kudos: 9
Collections: Summer Fic Exchange 2020





	Coquina Sunset

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sedsempersolo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sedsempersolo/gifts).



> I received this prompt from Ao3 user sedsempersolo as part of The Reylo Writing Den's Summertime Fic Exchange. This is my first ever fic exchange, so it's been a wild one start to finish! This ended up rather longer than I originally intended and I took a couple of liberties with the prompt, I hope that's okay. Originally the pictures were to be taken in the morning, but I set it in Clearwater which is on the west coast of Florida so the sunsets are more photogenic than sunrise. I also added a little Finn/Rose fluff in this chapter, I hope that's ok. I promise the Ben/Rey stuff is coming. 
> 
> More coming soon.
> 
> (Found a couple typos and fixed them on 9/27/20)

Ben peered out through the viewfinder of his camera, tracking the sun as it approached the horizon. Sunsets in Clearwater Beach are unlike any other. This, any local will tell you. Around him, the beach hummed, but he barely registered the people and their sunset rituals. He had been through this so many times. There was no magic left in the sunsets for him. None at all. If it was a beauty tonight -- red sky at night, sailor’s delight, he could almost hear his father croon -- that just meant a payday. What Ben cared about was capturing the color on film, not the color itself. Capture a good enough sunset, sell the prints, and he’d be able to live for months. It was a means to an end, full stop. It was imperative this shot be perfect. There was no room for error.

Missing the perfect shot meant no buyers. No buyers meant another month in his Uncle Chewie's spare room. It meant another month, maybe another year living here, in Clearwater. 

But tonight, the first night of the King Tide, this would be a good one. He could feel it. Focused as he was, a part of him did acknowledge that it was a spectacular view. The sun was fire in the sky, tempered by streaking of royal purple and delicate pink, shafts of sunlight weaving in and out among great towers of fluffy clouds. It was awe-inspiring, sure, but more importantly a sky this unique was just what he needed to sell to tourists wanting to take a piece of their vacation home. The only thing standing between him and a big payday was, potentially, The Girl. 

Today marked the third time in a week that all of his daytime pictures had been a wash. It didn't matter if he was snapping sunrise photos off the highest point of the causeway bridge, down in the weeds of the intercoastal, in the chaos of south beach, or the avenues of north beach -- _She_ was always there, cluttering up his otherwise perfectly framed photos. The Girl. She was maybe a little younger than him, slim with dark hair pulled into the strangest sort of mohawk with buns. She teased him -- half her face in one frame, the back of a head into the other. Once he'd found just the side of her hand, in the corner of a photo of the water. It was maddening.

But there was no way she could be in his photos tonight. He'd chosen the big dune between Palm Pavilion and Frenchy’s Rockaway. As a large man with a lot of camera equipment, it took only a glower or two to frighten off any other would-be sunset watchers from his perch. Though he still faced the populated public beach, the height of his tripod meant that there was less chance of somebody cluttering up the shot and a straight line down to the horizon. 

He carefully lined up and snapped a few more pictures. Knowing he only had seconds before the sun fell out of sight, he took a gamble and looked back at the photos he'd taken already, something he usually never did. He realized with frustration that there was a figure in all of them. A girl with her hair in buns, silhouetted against the sunset. She’d wrecked his shot. Again. But that meant she was here, now? Frantically he whipped out from behind the camera and scanned the beach in front of him. But there was no sign of her. Instead, from behind him --

“Hey, Ben! Ben Solo? Is that you??” 

Surprised, Ben jolted upright, almost knocking his tripod over, but deftly catching it just in time. Glancing around to find the source of the voice, he noticed a dark-haired man peering up at him, a smoldering cigarette in one hand, beer in the other. He looked generically familiar. Kike half a dozen other men on the beach he was dressed in buttoned-up shirts and khaki shorts, slightly sunburned. Ben couldn’t place him. 

“It’s Poe Dameron, don’t you remember?” the man asked, genially.

“Uh, yeah,” Ben said, recognition sliding into place. Of course. Poe Dameron. One of the guys from the bad old days, when he, Ben, had been a financial analyst on the rise, rather than a would-be photographer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the last aftershocks of the sunset streak through the sky as the light faded around them. He hesitated, torn between trying to capture this shot and continuing the conversation. He knew Dameron was still big in finance up north. A good friend to have, even if he had been an asshole. He could hear his mother’s voice in his head -- _just because he’s an asshole doesn’t mean he’s not useful._

“You taking pictures there?” Poe Dameron asked, taking a drag on a cigarette and following Ben's line of sight.

“Yeah, give me just a second --” but the moment had passed. The sun had disappeared beneath the waterline. It was like a switch being turned on: A low cheer started up at the surf and rose up the beach like the tide, there was a swell of clapping and cheering as everyone on the beach turned to toast the sunset. Ben cursed under his breath, sagging a little against the camera; he'd missed his shot.

“This is wild!” Dameron said, clapping along against his beer, “This some special night or something?”

“No,” Ben said preoccupied, making adjustments on his camera. Maybe he could salvage some of the afterglow shots, at least. “They do it every night.” He thought forlornly of his small apartment and the lack of any good pictures lately. Tonight could have been a good one. But thanks to that girl, and now to Dameron, he’d blown it. 

“How crazy to run into you here! Hey, come have a beer with us!” Dameron said, “I had no idea you were here, or I’d have called!”

“I should --”

“Come on man, it’s on me! Well, it’s on the expense account. Live a little!”

That had always been what Dameron had said. Live a little. Ben had worked while Dameron had played, but when it came time for layoffs... 

Ben sighed. It was a shit night, and if he was going to spend it getting drunk anyway, it might as well be on Dameron’s tab. “Yeah, okay.” 

“That’s the way!” Dameron said, flicking his cigarette into a nearby ashcan. “Come on over!” Without waiting for further response, he began walking back towards Palm Pavilion. Shouldering his camera bag, Ben followed. 

It had been a long time since Ben had been to the Palm. It was the kind of place more for locals and regular visitors to the island than tourists. Ben trailed Poe up the steps and through the brightly painted green doors to the restaurant. With a wink at the girl at the hostess stand, Dameron led Ben across the brightly painted restaurant to the back deck facing the ocean. Plastic tables were crammed together on a green and white deck overlooking the beach. The railings were crisscrossed with fairy lights, which winked on as the pair walked out onto the deck. 

“Hey!! Look who I found!” Dameron said, stopped by a table by the band. Ben felt a wave of anxiety crash over him -- what if it was a table of the old gang from the office? But the feeling quickly passed as it ended up being a pair of strangers. They were quickly introduced as Finn, an accounts executive and his girlfriend Rose (“the company’s paying for her, but she’s not officially here, so shh!”). A quick stop at the bar left them with beers for everyone.

Introductions having been made, Finn asked politely: “What brings you to Clearwater, Ben?” 

“I live here? Cheers.” Ben picked up one of the beers and knocked it back. 

“No shit?” Dameron asked. 

“Yeah, no shit," Ben said, trying to keep the bitterness from creeping into his voice. 

“You know, Ben used to be one of our top guys,” Dameron explained to Finn. “Then just before the 2008 bubble happened, you went to go work for that other firm? The First --"

“Yeah, that was a long time ago,” Ben said, cutting across him. He wished they could talk about anything else. Even Dameron didn't know the whole story of that fiasco, and he, Ben, wanted to keep it that way. His eyes flicked to the railing behind him. Worst case scenario he could hop the deck and take off at a run. Pretend none of this had happened. 

“You really from here?” Rose asked, snapping his attention back to the situation at hand. Ben swiveled his head away from the beach and nodded. His stomach dropped as he realized she, too, looked familiar. His mind whirred. One of the interns from when he'd worked for First Order Banking? 

“Me too!” she said, grinning. “Tarpon Springs High School!"

“Dunedin,” Ben said reflexively, naming his old high school. Relief washed over him. Not someone from the bad old days, but the old-old days.

“We shouldn’t even be sitting at the same table, old school rivals like us." 

“Well, it’s good to know what we’ve been able to grow beyond it," Ben deadpanned.

She giggled. “Yeah, I guess."

“So, you still in finance down here in Florida?” Finn asked with a disarmingly genuine interest. 

“I’m a photographer,” Ben said, grabbing another one of the beers from the tray. If they weren’t going to claim them, well...

“Yeah, you should have seen him taking pictures of that awesome sunset,” Poe said. 

“It was a really good one tonight,” Rose agreed, “I’d love to have a copy. Do you sell them?”

“That’s what pays the bills at the moment. The guy who runs Clearwater Paddleboard lets me sell out of his shop.” 

“That’s so wild. Just you, out here, taking pictures," Poe shook his head with what seemed almost like envy. "You escaped the rat race. Yep, this guy knows what’s going on!” he said, smacking Ben playfully on the arm. “Another round?” 

Ben knew he should go home, try to salvage some of his shots in the edit, but found himself saying: “Yeah, I’ll have another.” 

Ben started to get up to help Poe at the bar, but Rose held him back. He looked down at her quizzically.

“I want to see your pictures!” she said. 

“No, you don’t,” Ben replied with a half-smile, shaking his head, but allowing himself to be pulled back down into his chair. 

“I’m serious. I’d love to have one to take back to New York with us. We have the perfect spot for a big print -- isn’t that right Finn?” Rose said, nudging her boyfriend.

“What? Yeah. Right, babe.”

“Between the windows?”

“Yeah! Whatever you want, babe," Finn said, leaning over to give Rose a quick peck on the lips. Ben felt suddenly very awkward and looked away to give them some privacy. But Rose laughed and turned back to Ben, smiling at him expectantly

"Well, let's see ‘em!" 

“I don’t usually show people the raw images -- "

"Come on, make an exception for a hometown girl," Rose said.

"Alright," he said with another half-smile and a self-deprecating shrug. He turned on his camera and pulled up the SD card, passing it over to her. Then his brow furrowed and he added quickly: “It’s not my best, I got kinda distracted tonight. Someone kept stepping in front of all my shots.”

“Rude!” Rose said, her eyes dancing. 

“Yeah,” Ben agreed, returning her smile. Maybe it was the beer, but it was easy to feel at home in Rose’s company. 

“Wow, you're right!" she said, flipping through the pictures while Finn looked on with a head on her shoulder. "There’s like..a silhouette in all of them." Rose reached out and traced the outline of the person's face with her finger

"Whoever she is, she's got a hell of a hairdo!" Finn said, shaking his head. 

"She's been in all my photos for the past few days," Ben said.

Rose flipped back and forth between two photos, brow furrowed. "It is almost familiar…" she said.

"Wait, do you know her??" Ben asked. 

"No! At least I don't think so! It's just...I feel like I've seen it before somewhere? The hair, I mean? Crazy! I know!" Rose replied, still scanning the photos. 

"What've you got there?" Poe asked jovially, depositing a plate of steamed shrimp with another round of beers. 

"Ben's got a mystery girl!" Rose sang, pointing down at the camera screen. 

"Mystery girl??" Poe asked, placing a beer in front of each of the "What's this, Solo??"

Ben felt his face turn pink, frowned slightly and shook his head. He took the opportunity to take another long drink. 

Seeing his hesitation, Rose answered for him: "She's this girl who keeps showing up in his photos! No idea who she is or where she came from, but she's always there!"

“That is a mystery! Where’d you meet her?” Poe asked. 

“He hasn’t met her, that’s the point!” Rose said, laughing. 

"I...just want to know who she is," Ben said, shrugging a little awkwardly. He looked down into the dark amber of his beer for a moment, then continued: “In some ways, it almost feels like I _do_ know her, only I forgot? Like a memory from when you’re a little kid, when you just remember bits and pieces. It’s a feeling. We always seem to be in the same places, but I keep missing her. Even tonight, she was somehow in the shot, but when I looked up she was gone. I can’t stop thinking about who she is, wondering what she's like. She likes to swim, obviously, but where is she from, what is she doing in town? I need to find her. And in the pictures she seems...she seems almost sad? Something about her eyes -- _when_ I can catch them -- seems melancholy. I just hate that she’s sad, she should be happy,” he was vaguely aware that he was rambling and tried to finish it up. “For whatever reason, it’s like we’re drawn together. She’s in almost every photo I take. That has to mean something, right?. I want to know why, I _need_ to know why.”

There was a beat of silence and Ben felt his throat close up as he was hit with two realizations: first, that he’d been rambling for what had to be a solid two minutes, and second, that the others were all watching him, more or less open-mouthed. He swallowed hard. He had not meant to divulge that much. _I must be turning into a real lightweight if 2 or 3 beers are enough to make me spill my guts like that_. Or maybe he was lonelier than he had realized. He ran a hand nervously through his hair and shrugged, hunching his shoulder over. “You must think I'm insane,” he said.

There was another beat of silence, broken by Finn bringing a decisive fist down on the table. 

"We've got to find her. I mean, this could be your soulmate or some shit," Finn said. 

"More like my white whale, but okay," Ben replied, still embarrassed. 

"We'll help you find her!" Rose said, twining her hand with Finn's. 

"A toast!" Poe said suddenly, raising his glass, "To soulmates," at this he bowed to Rose and Finn who glanced sideways at each other and smiled shyly, "to soulmates and white whales. May we find yours, Ben!" They all lifted their glasses and drank deeply, even Ben. 

Ben had to admit, it was a fun night. More fun than he'd allowed himself to have in a long time. Maybe Uncle Chewie had been right. Locking himself away wasn't solving anything. Ben allowed himself to get pretty trashed -- Poe had insisted on tequila shots all around after the toast. As the evening progressed, it was revealed that the group would be in town through the weekend and promised to call him to go out the next night, to help find his mystery girl. Surprising himself again, Ben said yes. 

As the others walked back to their hotel, Ben walked over to where he'd parked his bike earlier that evening. He wondered if he were sober enough to try for some moon shots. He couldn't remember if he'd packed the correct lenses, but it couldn't hurt. Pulling his bike out into the beach, he noticed that he wasn't alone. As he squinted down the sand, he felt a sudden lightness that had nothing to do with the copious amount of alcohol he had imbibed. Silhouetted against the waves was a girl with a familiar hairstyle. 

"Hey!!" He called out. She was walking on the beach, a bag of shells in her hand. They were little coquina shells, bright as sunset against the clear mesh of the bag. She didn't look up at him. "Hey!” He repeated. His bike caught in the sand and almost brought him down. He let it fall. He found the sand was much more difficult to walk through than usual, but pressed on, weaving down towards her spot at the shoreline. "You, you're the girl!" he pointed at her. He meant to say _You’re the girl who keeps wrecking my shots..._ But in that moment she turned to face and he was struck by another thought altogether. There seemed to be no reason not to vocalize that thought immediately, so he switched tack and said: “You’re beautiful. Didja know that?”

She snorted out a laugh and he tried to grin back. However, for some reason, there were now two of her, phasing in and out. He closed his eyes. This was a mistake, as it was also at that moment that his legs stopped cooperating and he stumbled sideways, hard, into a nearby trash can. As the tequila made a sudden reappearance he leaned down and vomited into the trashcan for an indeterminate amount of time. When he gathered himself enough to glance blearily over the rim to survey just how much he’d embarrassed himself, she was gone. Sliding down to his knees, he pressed his face against the cool metal mesh of the trashcan, reliving what an idiot he’d been all night, and wishing for the sweet release of death. 

**Author's Note:**

> Clearwater is my favorite beach, but due to lockdown, I haven't been able to take my usual summer trips there, so thank you sedsempersolo for giving me an excuse to virtually visit my favorite beach. All of these places are real and you should check them out if you're ever in the area:  
> [ Google Maps Link to the area](https://g.page/PalmPavilionClearwaterBeach?share)  
> [ Palm Pavilion ](https://palmpavilion.com/)  
> [ Frenchy's Rockaway ](https://frenchysonline.com/frenchys-rockaway/)  
> [ Clearwater Paddleboard and Rental Co](https://www.clearwaterpaddleboardco.com/)


End file.
